


Spotlight

by A Passing Housewife (flourchildwrites)



Series: Fullmetal Alchemist Tumblr Events [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Difficult Decisions, Dog of the Military, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Moral Dilemmas, Royai Week, Royai Week 2018, Short One Shot, Spotlight Prompt, State alchemist exam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 17:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flourchildwrites/pseuds/A%20Passing%20Housewife
Summary: Young Corporal Mustang sits for the State Alchemist Exam in certain expectation of great reward.  He perseveres in spite of Berthold Hawkeye's fervent admonition that no good can come from subservience.  He believes that he can uphold the alchemist's creed and obey the military.The road to hell is paved with good intentions.Written for Royai Week 2018





	Spotlight

  **Day 3:** **Spotlight**

Be Thou For The People.  That was an alchemist’s creed, a fundamental and guiding belief which Berthold Hawkeye held dear.  It was the second lesson he imparted to his favorite apprentice. 

At least, Roy liked to think he was Master Hawkeye’s favorite.  It was more accurate to say he simply stuck around longer than anyone else.  Anyone except Riza, but that was a story for another day.

This day, this particular moment was weighted with equal parts feast and famine.  Any well-read alchemy scholar could pass the written portion of the State Alchemist Exam.  Owing to his former master’s exacting standards, Roy successfully completed it with fifteen minutes to spare, but academic proficiency was only part of the equation.

The interview was a beast of a different nature, and Roy’s decision to move forward with the examination could spell either ruin or riches for his career.  The interview was where the military separated the thinkers from the doers.  The dogs from the rabble. 

Apprehension burrowed in the pit of Roy’s stomach as he confidently thrust open the ornamental double doors leading to the examination room.  The heavy footfalls of his standard military issue boots echoed through the cavernous space as Roy surveyed the small panel of well-known State Alchemists before him.  Fuhrer King Bradley, though not an alchemist himself, sat in place of pride.

As planned, Roy clicked his heels together as he straightened up to attention.  Chin up.  Chest out.  Shoulders back.  Stomach in.  He flawlessly executed a rigid salute.

“At ease Corporal Mustang,” growled a deep voice from the shadows.  Though Roy could barely make out the sharp cut of his jawline and the subtle glinting of his trusted sword in the low light, he knew the voice.  Without a doubt, it was Fuhrer Bradley who spoke.  “First question:  Are you here as an alchemist or as an officer of the State Military of Amestris?”

Roy shifted his left foot a shoulder’s width apart from his right and simultaneously crossed his hands around his back, near his toned waistline.  “Both, Sir,” he responded without hesitation.

But Berthold’s admonition rang in his ears.

 _“Take heart, boy,”_  the frail academic had spat at his young apprentice.  Firelight exaggerated the deep lines and prominent brow of his master’s face.  Intense, bright blue eyes bore a hole into the young man as if they saw right through him.  _“From infantrymen to generals, all soldiers are left to die like trash on the side of the road.  Be Thou For The People, Roy.  Use your talents for the welfare of humanity instead of personal gain.  Nothing good can come of the subservience that the military demands.  Remember this, if nothing else.”_

Yet, good had come of it.  A roof over his head.  A full meal in his belly.  A fine car parked a block or so from Central Command.  And if Roy gave them more, just a little more, the rewards would be beyond simple creature comforts.

 Roy would have the best research and funding at the tips of his lethal fingers.  Moreover, he would earn status and, with it, the ability to make a difference.  All he had to do was tow the line, come when called and serve the military as a faithful State Alchemist.

 It was a good bargain and a golden opportunity.  Being a State Alchemist was the culmination of his boyhood dream and validation that neither he nor Riza had endured Berthold’s whims in vain.  Roy could serve the people, the military and his own ambitions in the same breath.  Besides, he wasn’t alone in his way of thinking.  Riza saw things his way. 

 _"Can I trust you, Roy, with my father’s research?”_  she had said with Master Hawkeye barely cold in his simple grave.  And when he said yes, she laid bare the secret of flame alchemy without a thought of return or recompense.  Riza stood before Roy on faith alone and asked him to right the wrongs of the world and prove that her father was more than the twisted widower of his twilight years.

 Riza was a giver in the same way that both Roy and Berthold were takers.  And Roy swore to himself often, especially then, as Fuhrer Bradley and the other panelists searched his stern expression for a trace of insubordination that he would make good on his promise.  With a certification, he would judge himself deserving of Riza’s secrets.  He would prove her father wrong, and Roy would be both for the people and the nation’s military arm.

 “Excellent,” King Bradley concluded, satisfied that Roy’s stance was sincere.  As the affirmation left the fuhrer’s lips, a spotlight illuminated a spindly object at the center of a complex transmutation circle.  “Now, take a seat.  Alchemy is the science of balance.  If you have the gift, it will not refuse you.”

The spotlight rained down on the chair like a foreboding omen, drawing all eyes to the inanimate arbiter of Roy’s destiny.  At first glance, the object itself looked like little more than a golden pedestal with three rickety, irregular limbs.  It seemed wholly unsuitable for bearing weight, let alone sitting. 

Nevertheless, like so many things in his life, the chair was not as simple as it seemed.  Roy suspected the archaic sigils of the circle were designed to compensate through energy manipulation, and with each step forward, the young officer prepared to enter the light, to unveil himself as an alchemist and to cast aside the shroud of normalcy.  If judged gifted by this object, Roy would transform from a nameless no account to a uniquely monikered dog of the military. 

And there was no more time to ponder the symbolism or peruse the hows and whys.  As much as any trait, Roy’s obedience was at issue, and for the time being, the altruistic alchemist would stand down to the corporal seeking his certification.  He entered the spotlight as a deferential military man with chin up, chest out, shoulders back and stomach in.

Like a good boy, he sat and abandoned the guiding principle of his master as the object bore his weight with ease.

He did it for the people, to better protect and serve them.  For the military, to show obedience in certain expectation of great reward.  For himself, to further his ambition.

And for Riza, to prove himself worthy of her loyalty.

**Author's Note:**

> Three days down, four to go! I'd say it gets less angsty after this, but apparently, I go all in for the hurt these days. As always, feedback is life. Bookmarks, kudos and comments are things of beauty. Please be a beautiful person and leave me some if you liked this.


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